Stricken
by heatqueen
Summary: Zombie Wicked. Elphaba wakes up, injured in an abandoned hospital, and enters an Oz that is plagued with zombies. The characters must do everything they can to survive.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Several conversations about zombie Wicked led to this. Basically, The Walking Dead meets Wicked, with the characters fighting for their survival in a zombie-stricken Oz. Anyone who's seen The Walking Dead will probably notice strong parallels to the series in the first chapter.**

 **Stricken**

 _~ A Wicked Fanfiction ~_

 _~ By Heatqueen ~_

 **Chapter 1**

You know that feeling, when you wake up in the morning, and no matter how hard you try you cannot remember where you are?

That's how Elphaba felt when she woke. Then she was hit with pain.

Her right arm flew to her left shoulder, on which, through her clothing, she could feel something padded. It stretched from her collarbone across her shoulder and around her back. Pressing on the centre of it caused pain to shoot down her side.

As her fingers played with the cloth covered padding, she saw a flash of a spear coming towards her, and winced.

She could feel as much that she was in a bed, though it was not a familiar one. The blanket was too thick to be hers; normally she slept beneath her cloak. Whatever she was wearing was far more comforting than her usual attire. It was smooth and smelled fresh, a smell that reminded her of a life that was once hers, that was now worlds away.

Whoever had granted her mercy, whoever had not murdered her on the spot, she owed her life to.

She cranked an eye open but could not see much; the lights were out. When her vision adjusted she made out vague, grey shapes. The room was small and simple. There were also wires connected to her veins, which she yanked out, grunting as the needles tugged at her skin. Somehow, whatever had passed through those wires, had not killed her.

But why the silence? If this was some kind of hospital, there ought to be people – or Animals – wandering around. Her experience of hospitals informed her that they were never quiet places, and yet she had yet to hear a peep. No padded footsteps, no hushed conversations, no stretchers wheeling patients to and from their rooms.

She heaved herself upright, acknowledging a strong wave of dizziness, but expertly squashing it down. There was only a door, and a small window. And in the corner – causing Elphaba to exhale in relief – a bundle of the few belongings she possessed, and her broom, standing upright, almost winking. They must have been all of two metres away, but with pain shooting through her body at every slight movement, it might as well have been a mile.

Balancing unsteadily on her feet, she clung onto the edge of the mattress and staggered forward, groaning as her shoulder seized. Almost as soon as she was up, she slipped onto the floor, into a pseudo-sitting position, from where she could about stretch her uninjured arm. Her broom, her old friend, almost seemed to hear her; it was as if it leaned forward to fall into her grasp. She used the broom's length to drag the rest of her things closer.

There were only three: A cloak, a hat and a book. The cloak was tattered and torn, a combination of black and dry mud. The hat, once pointy _(It's really sharp, don't you think?)_ , now crooked.

The book, titled in a funny language, with letters that seemed to swirl around, was pristine.

 _Kill the witch,_ a faint yell echoed in her head.

Well, she had only two options: Stay here, and hope that no one showed up to finish the job, or get the hell out before anyone realised she was awake.

Not one for lying around, she chose the latter.

The broom was a great help; it almost pulled her to her feet. She leaned against it, panting heavily, biting back tears from the pain in her shoulder. When the pain was just bearable, she staggered towards the door. Giving it a weak shove, she heard and felt it hit something on the other side. It took all the force she could muster to force the door further. Through a narrow gap, she strained her eyes to see what was on the other side. A trolley. At least that was moveable.

Elphaba slipped a hand through, grasped the edge of the trolley and pushed. It wheeled away and crashed into a wall on the other side.

She stepped into an aftermath of war and winced at the overwhelming stench. If there was once order, it no longer existed. A gaping hole in the ceiling allowed moonlight to flood in and ricochet around the scene. Everything was everywhere: trolleys were upside down; random objects were scattered; furniture was broken. There was not a single person anywhere, except perhaps beneath a thin blanket hastily thrown over a stretcher.

Unable to tell if there was a feasible route out of here, Elphaba steadied herself with her broom and started to walk.

She walked past doors that led to abandoned rooms – some contained beds, and others computers that no longer worked. One room contained fallen stacks of shelves containing boxes of which some of the contents have scattered; they appeared to be needles with a vile green liquid inside them. Elphaba ignored them and slammed the door to each room that did not lead to an exit.

She was thankful not to run into any trouble. Her shoulder was sore and she didn't fancy enduring the extra pain should anyone decide to make an attempt on her life. Still, she hoped to find an exit soon. She was weak and losing energy fast. Part of her was tempted to curl up on a stretcher and sleep the rest of the night away, but she knew better than to leave herself exposed.

Eventually she found a room with a tiny gap in the bottom of the window. Luckily she was able to pry it open, but the gap was narrow and would require a lot of manoeuvring to get through. With a lot of grunting, shuffling and twisting, she got halfway through and then held out her broom in front of her.

'Help me out,' she muttered. The broom, though not in any way able to hear her, seemed to heed her intent. It dragged her the rest of her way, and she scraped her knees on the windowsill. The sharp sting distracted her from her throbbing shoulder.

There did not seem to be a single good landing spot. Every bit of ground was covered in rubble of some sort, whether it was an uprooted tree, an overturned carriage or fallen building. Elphaba precariously dangled from the broom, searching for a spot that was flat. She eventually found an unblemished patch of grass, and stretched out her feet to reach the ground. The minute she landed, she stumbled and fell to her knees, panting heavily. The broom landed beside her.

She squinted her eyes shut for just a moment. When she opened them, she found herself face to face with another pair of eyes staring back at her.

They were the eyes of a beheaded corpse.

They were yellow, with dried blood trails coming out of them. The skin was grey. The forehead had a gigantic hole in it, and a bit of brain oozed out.

Squelching her nausea, Elphaba forced herself onto her feet.

Only to be knocked back down again. She rolled painfully on her shoulder and looked up to see a gun at her face.

'What is your wound?' a voice demanded.

A familiar voice.

 _Fiyero!_

She scrambled backwards, and the gun followed her.

'Fiyero, it's me, Elph…'

 _'What is your wound?'_ he demanded. 'Tell me now, or I kill you!'

'Uh – er…spear! I got speared!'

'And that's it?'

'That's it.'

'Did you get bitten?'

Elphaba froze in confusion.

'What in Lurline's name do you mean? I got speared!'

'Answer the question, did you get bitten?'

'No! I got bloody stabbed! Now get that gun away from me!'

Fiyero's stance softened. He lowered the gun, a look of apology in his eyes.

Elphaba exhaled sharply.

'I'm sorry. I had to check. You could have been one of them,' said Fiyero, in a low voice. 'Sweet Oz, I cannot believe it's you.'

'One of who?'

Fiyero stared at her. 'How can you not know?'

* * *

The house was in tatters; with everything strewn everywhere as if someone had picked it up, shook it and put it back down again. You couldn't tell which room was meant to be the bedroom, living room or kitchen. Boxes of a whole variety of things lined the walls, contents spilling out, ranging from food to clothes to random items Elphaba could not work out the purpose of.

She perched on the corner of a green armchair, wryly comparing the colour of her hand to the fabric of the armrest. Her skin was significantly deeper in hue. She thought that someone must have sat in this armchair, never thinking twice about the colour. It was only when it came to skin that anyone cared that it was green.

Musing over this distracted her from what had happened earlier. She had been half-dragged, half-carried by Fiyero through the front door, only to come face to face with someone she'd not seen in a very long time. She remembered the astonished eyes of Glinda staring at her as Fiyero brought her in. The expression on her face had shifted from shock to relief, and her lips had parted as though she was about to speak. No words came out, however.

She no longer looked like Glinda the Good. The infamous blue ball gown was replaced with ordinary, mismatched clothing. Elphaba was sure that she had never seen Glinda with imperfect hair, yet now her normally tight curls hung limp in barely noticeable waves.

Elphaba blinked and squashed down the image. The last time the two girls had met was at the Emerald Palace, the day Elphaba defied the Wizard. On that day, each girl had made their choices, choices that forced them apart. Elphaba never thought she'd see Glinda again. Now that they were reconciled, she wasn't sure what to say. It was far too much to assume that Glinda would want to be her friend again. Not after Elphaba left her.

The door creaked open. Armed with bandages was Glinda, who approached her slowly, her eyes shining with uncertainty. For a moment, their eyes connected, and a myriad of feelings threatened to overwhelm. Elphaba forced them down. This was no time for tears or emotional reunions. Glinda seemed to understand this as well. She carefully parted the fabric that covered Elphaba's wound, and gently released the padding that protected it. All of a sudden Elphaba felt as though no time had passed.

Glinda still retained the same gentleness of movement from the Shiz days. She peeled at the old bandages with her brow furrowed in concentration, only the slightest bit hesitant of possibly hurting Elphaba further. Elphaba did her best not to wince, but wondered when Glinda had lost the squeamishness of her teenage years. Eyes that would have once fled at the sight of blood stared boldly at the open wound.

'This looks bad.'

They were the first words she uttered, and her voice was as soothing as it had been all those years ago.

Elphaba remained silent as Glinda tended to the wound, instead wallowing in memories of the glorious Shiz days. Though nostalgia changed nothing, it was comforting to remember the better days. They were possibly the only good days of Elphaba's life. She missed the dusty classrooms and Doctor Dillamond's lectures. Strangely, she even missed the things she once despised – the frivolous ignorance of Gillikin's richest; the sneers and taunts of Elphaba's skin; the scandalous ways of the Playboy Prince Fiyero who had, somehow, against all odds, become her friend.

The Charmed Circle; what an odd group they had been. A green girl, a prince, several wealthy lasses, an odd Munchkin boy and a hilarious double act who seemed more interested in each other than their dating prospects. Somehow they all got thrown together and learned to get along. How trivial compared to the present, but how gloriously blissful at the same time.

Elphaba briefly wondered what became of them. But mere wondering wouldn't change anything.

'All done,' said Glinda.

'Glin,' said Elphaba, her voice catching in her throat. _I missed you,_ she wanted to say, but the words got stuck in her throat. 'What…'

'Fiyero will explain everything.'

Elphaba nodded. It was the only conversation they had that night.

She was shown to a room by Fiyero. It was cramped and haphazard. In the place of a bed was a sleeping bag that stretched across the majority of a faded brown carpet. Some stacked up cardboard boxes were turned on their sides and attempted to act like cupboards, though they never quite closed properly. There was a single light dangling precariously from the ceiling.

It was more than Elphaba had had in years.

'A disease has stricken Oz,' said Fiyero. 'Those who fall victim to it die, only to come back again. They feed off those who are alive, and their bite spreads their plague. You must _not_ get bitten by them, that is imperative.'

It was a vague explanation, and Elphaba would not understand until tomorrow, when a wave of the infected struck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _Elphaba was running._

 _All around her, explosions resounded. The entire camp was up in flames. Animals scampered for their lives. Some of them succumbed to the flames; tears pricked the corners of Elphaba's lids. Her lungs were burning. The guards were getting closer. She could hear their shouts – 'Kill the witch!'_

 _She thrust her broom in the air. It drew her towards the sky. Beneath her, the rough hands of a guard grabbed her leg. She writhed and tried to shake it off, but the guard swung around and thrust his spear into her shoulder. With an agonised cry she tumbled to the ground, taking down the guard with her. Forcing him beneath her, she recited some poorly remembered words from the Grimmerie, and watched as the guard's airway constricted. She stumbled to her feet and staggered away, clutching her shoulder in agony, her vision swimming in front of her._

She woke in the early hours of morning, trembling, with clammy skin and a raging fever. Her head hurt too much to try and squint her eyes open, so she buried herself in the sleeping bag and tried to get warm.

Some hours later, she was disturbed by Glinda, who took one look at her and exhaled with worry. Glinda returned with various medicines and a cool cloth for her forehead, and spent the morning tending to her. Although Glinda did not speak even once, Elphaba had to admit the company was nice. It reminded her that Glinda, in some way, did care, even if she wasn't able to talk to her right now. She noticed that Glinda no longer bore the confident demeanour of the girl who had reined as a political figure. This Glinda was little more than a lost soul, who wandered around as if she was never quite sure where to go. There was maturity in her features that hadn't existed in the young Galinda of Shiz University. Those blue eyes no longer believed in ideals, but had seen unimaginable hurts. Elphaba missed their naivety.

At some point, Glinda brought her food, but Elphaba was barely able to stomach any. Sitting upright was an effort, let alone eating. Her shoulder throbbed constantly, and Elphaba felt tears biting at her eyelids as Glinda tended to the wound once again.

All the while, she thought: _Why in Oz am I alive?_

Eventually, she was left to her own thoughts. She was visited by Fiyero, who was full of apology for the stunt with the gun, and it took a lot out of her just to reassure him that he was forgiven. Elphaba was sure that all her feelings towards him would eventually come to the surface, but right now didn't seem capable of feeling much of anything. She reflected briefly on their heated encounter in the woods, a relationship that was supposed to be doomed, but was too tired to ponder what might happen now that they were reunited.

She was almost asleep when a gunshot rang through the air, causing her to bolt upright. Sick to her stomach, she forced herself to stand, trembling as she balanced herself on the wall. She staggered towards the window and pressed her forehead against it.

Outside, just beyond the wall that enclosed the house, a hideous figure rammed itself repeatedly into the gate. He was grotesque with tattered clothing and limp posture. He almost dragged himself forward rather than walking, and had no qualms about bashing his head into the steel bars, letting out angry groans as he did so.

Fiyero stood on the inside of the gate, shouldering his gun. He aimed it towards the man and fired a single bulled in his head. Elphaba watched as the ugly creature fell to the floor, blood squirting everywhere. Her stomach churned as she remembered what Fiyero had told her yesterday.

 _The infected,_ she thought with horror.

The man wasn't the only one. The sound of the gunshot had drawn more from the wilderness. They clambered at the wall: some attempted to climb it; others bashed at the gate. A particularly tall one leaped over the top, and Fiyero shot him down, jumping backwards as blood flied towards him. The gate wasn't faring well. The steel bars were starting to dent, and Elphaba knew it was only a matter of time before they broke.

They had to get out.

She looked around frantically for anything that might help, and swore when she found nothing. She backed away from the window, her head swimming, and slowly made for the door, balancing on shaky legs. She was relieved to lean on the door handle, nearly falling as the door swung open easily. She staggered through and looked around, wondering which way would lead her to her broom or the Grimmerie.

'Glin,' she called out weakly, but there was no response. Either her voice was gone, or Glinda was somewhere out of hearing range. With no options available, she moved blindly through the building, hoping that something might point her to a clue.

More gunshots sounded.

The next room contained a small poster bed and more storage boxes. This must be Glinda's room – the bed was adorned with pink blankets. Through the window, Elphaba cringed as she watched the infected continue to pummel the gate. Glinda stood by Fiyero, with her wand, not that it appeared to be helping much. Her weak attempts at sorcery weren't nearly powerful enough to handle the horde of infected who were forever growing larger.

Elphaba frantically turned her attentions to the storage boxes. She ignored the ones containing clothes, but found a box of cutlery that included some rather sharp looking knives. She removed one such knife and continued on her way.

By the time she got back onto the landing, her strength was gone. Her legs buckled beneath her. Just looking at the staircase that stood between her and the building's exit made everything swim in front of her. Gripping the knife for dear life, she shuffled forward, grasping the railings on the banister, squinting as she tried not to keel over completely.

The voices of the infected could now be heard through the walls.

She slid onto the top step, and then the next. Her ears caught raised voices, screams, gunshots and the thuds of bodies landing on the ground. She slid onto the next step, and then the next.

An ugly groan gurgled from down below. Elphaba looked down to see a horrendous, bedraggled figure shuffling towards the staircase. Its disgusting smell permeated the air.

 _Sweet Oz._

She stared in horror as it limped towards her, climbing the first step, and then the second. Some nasty looking slimy stuff dripped from its mouth. Its teeth were rotten, and half of them were missing. It looked at Elphaba and licked its peeling lips, gnashing its teeth hungrily.

She tried to stand and run, but her body would not let her. Weak and listless, she clutched the banister and called Fiyero's name. Her voice didn't carry – thin and weak, it was drowned out by everything else. The infected creature leered over her with a sadistic grin, and reached out, its gnarly fingers aiming for her forearm.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Elphaba awaited her fate.

A pleasant warmth washed over her, and the pain she was expecting never arrived.

Opening her eyes, she realised the creature had been blasted backwards, and was lying dead, pieces of its body strewn all over the floor.

 _Magic,_ Elphaba thought, gratefully, and continued her slump downwards, trying to ignore the horrid dead thing, whose smell caused her to retch.

At the bottom of the stairs, her eyes finally landed on her broom, leaning in the corner of the corridor by the building's entrance. Beside it, the rest of her belongings. Relief washed over her. Her remaining strength got her to the door, but she knew there was no way she'd be able to fly in her condition. Instead, she cradled the broom and slumped her way outdoors, her eyes locking onto FIyero's figure and watching as he shot down creature after creature.

They were coming in droves. The gate was thoroughly destroyed, and they seeped into the area, filling up every corner. Glinda appeared to have cast some sort of shield, not that it was holding up very well. The creatures pushed against it, and Glinda was sweating trying to keep it intact. Fiyero shot a few more creatures, swore and threw down his gun. He'd run out of bullets.

'Fi…' called Elphaba. Fiyero didn't hear her; however, Glinda did.

'Elphie,' she breathed. 'You can't be here, it's far too dangerous!'

'Fly,' Elphaba choked, holding out her broom. Glinda's mouth rounded into an O. She rushed over to Elphaba, grabbed the broom and swung her leg over it.

'Get on.'

'C – can't,' Elphaba stammered. 'Go.'

'Get on,' Glinda repeated. 'And put your arms around my waist and lean on me.'

Elphaba did so, then let out a strangled cry as she saw the creatures aiming for Fiyero.

'Help him!' she said, as one of them tugged at Fiyero's leg. Not a moment later, the broom was in the air, Elphaba was clinging on for dear life, eyes shut and focusing on the warmth radiating from Glinda's back.

'Fiyero, we're coming,' said Glinda, and she swooped the broom into the centre of the chaos, grabbed Fiyero's hand and swerved dangerously as they rose into the air. Fiyero kicked down the last remaining creature, and the three of them flew away, not daring to land until they were out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The next thing Elphaba knew was the sound of frantic voices.

'…have to start all over again from scratch because of this!'

'Just be glad we're not dead!'

'No thanks to you.'

'It's thanks to Elphaba that both of us are alive, actually…'

Elphaba rolled over. The noise was doing her head in. Her whole body hurt. She vaguely recalled being slumped over Glinda's back. The ground was hard and dug into her bones.

'…could never have expected so many, we need to be careful.'

'We don't exactly have a garden fence here…'

Their voices reverberated strongly. One of them was pacing. Their footsteps vibrated through the floor; each one caused Elphaba to wince.

'…I already blocked all the doors and windows, what else do you want me to…'

'You could try shutting up,' Elphaba interjected weakly.

 _'Elphie!'_

Glinda's screech was hell to her ears, and she groaned, her head spinning with pain. She felt Glinda's hand on her forehead; the touch caused her to shiver. She wished she wasn't awake so that the pain would go away.

'Still feverish,' Glinda muttered. 'Sweet Oz, this is not good, we need your fever to break.'

'Where are we?'

'We found an abandoned warehouse, well out of the way of the infected for now, but we have no idea if or when they'll find it,' said Glinda. 'Plus, we lost all of our supplies, including my pink quilt which I am _gutted_ about, it was so comfy…'

Elphaba smiled at the familiarity. Glinda had not changed one bit, but there was a lost look on her face that gave away the real importance Glinda had placed on the possession. Elphaba felt genuinely sorry for her and took her hand.

'Perhaps one day you'll be reunited with it.'

'Perhaps.'

But they both knew it would never happen.

'Glin,' said Fiyero, and Elphaba felt a shot of annoyance towards him. 'I need to go find us some food.'

'Well we just got away from the infected, so you'd better not go getting yourself nearly killed again,' Glinda huffed in response.

'Glin,' Fiyero sighed, 'you know I have no choice…'

'Of course I know,' Glinda spat. 'Just – for Lurline's sake, be careful.'

Fiyero disappeared out of sight. Through somewhat blurry vision, Elphaba was just able to pick out Glinda's reproachful expression. Were those tears threatening to form on the corner of her lids? Elphaba hoped she didn't cry; she had no desire to get into the subject of Fiyero, and the complicated issues between the three of them.

She still couldn't talk to Glinda much. Maybe it was because of how they'd parted ways – both girls had made their choices and separated in the process. Elphaba wasn't sure if she should forgive Glinda for not joining her, or if she was the one who needed forgiveness for leaving. She was glad to see her friend again in spite of the circumstances of their reunion. But she knew they could never go back to their early beginnings, when being pranked with a pointed, black hat was a regular part of her life, and not being allowed to study sorcery was the end of the world.

The hours they spent waiting for Fiyero to return were intense. Glinda frequently poked her head out of the windows, hoping that he would show up. Elphaba, hardly able to move, sat against a wall with her legs stretched out in front of her, trying to distract herself from her own thoughts, and the fever that had overtaken her body. Her belongings lay in a pile in the corner, the Grimmerie wrapped up in her cloak, and the broom standing idly. At one point, Glinda picked up the broom and swept the place. Elphaba rolled her eyes. A bit of sweeping was not about to make this place look pretty.

During the moments when the fever was slightly more bearable, Elphaba opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. There was little here except dust, debris and mould. The walls might have once been painted, but it was hard to tell. It smelled like damp, and Elphaba was sure that the moment it rained, the place would flood.

There was no sign of the infected. Whether they simply hadn't caught on to the trio's whereabouts, or whether they didn't happen to live near here, Elphaba had no idea. She just knew that they could show up at any moment, and when that moment arrived, they would have no choice but to move again.

Finally, the door cracked open. Glinda jumped and squeaked in fear, but then Fiyero staggered back in again, his arms laden with supplies.

'Thank Lurline!' Glinda screeched. She ran over to Fiyero and embraced him, almost knocking him off his feet. Hastily, he put down the supplies. They included a bit of food, a hammer and what looked like some kind of radio device.

'We have to find them,' Fiyero said out of nowhere.

Glinda looked at him, puzzled.

'Who?'

'The others,' Fiyero said simply. He picked up the radio device.

'What others?'

'I don't know – anyone! We can't be the only ones, surely!'

Glinda looked at him sceptically.

'But Fiyero – you can't actually expect to find anyone, surely? Even if they survived there's no guarantee we'll get in touch with them!'

'How do you know if we don't try?'

Glinda fell silent. Elphaba understood – Glinda didn't want to get her hopes up. Elphaba felt that way herself. She thought of her sister Nessarose. What had happened to her in all of this? Suddenly her heart lurched. What if there was even the slightest possibility that Nessarose was still alive?

'We have to try,' she said quietly.

'But Elphie…'

'We have to at least find out,' Elphaba interrupted.

Glinda nodded, her expression resigned.

'Right,' said Fiyero. 'Well – er – I'll get to work on this thing then,' he said in an oddly cheerful tone. He started fiddling with the radio device. Glinda sorted through the rest of the supplies.

Elphaba watched them, her heart heavy. Where could Nessarose be? Was she just like the others, mangled and bloody and living off human flesh? Would she take one look at Elphaba and decide she was a meal? Elphaba shuddered. Would her green skin make a difference? Maybe she was safe – maybe the infected wouldn't like the green skin. If that were the case, it would be the only time in her life that her skin tone had been a good thing.

That night, she had nightmares. The infected were chasing her, crying 'Kill the witch!' They were led by Nessarose, whose head was dangling precariously from her neck. They chased after her, and Nessarose grabbed her arm and bit into her neck. The infected crowded around, tugging at different parts of her, eating away at her flesh until all the green fell off and there was nothing left…

She awoke with a gasp, in the early hours of morning. Glinda had found a mat of sorts to sleep on. Fiyero was sprawled out on the floor. It was cold, and yet Elphaba was sweating. She felt messed up from her dream, but no longer feverish.

Tentatively, she stood up and walked around. Fiyero was snoring loudly. Glinda's lips were slightly parted and she had a frown on her face. Elphaba imagined she must be uncomfortable. Coming from a life of luxury, she just wasn't made for sleeping on hard surfaces. Elphaba tiptoed around them and found the radio device lying a few feet away from Fiyero. She picked it up and examined it. It looked a bit useless, and none of the buttons worked. Sighing, she sat back down against the wall and let it fall into her lap.

Then, she had an idea. Picking up the radio device, she summoned a tiny bit of magic, and then poked it. The device crackled, as though it was being infused with life. Elphaba grinned.

She hesitated, wondering if there was any chance that someone might hear her. She had no idea what radio frequency to use, or if anyone even had a radio. She just knew that she had to try, for her sister's sake.

Not wanting to wake the others, she tiptoed outside. It was a frosty night. Elphaba knew the others would have a go at her tomorrow for being outdoors where the infected might appear, but didn't care. She sat for a few hours, fiddling with the device, occasionally whispering into it, hoping with all her heart that someone might respond. When the sun broke through the early hours of morning, she sighed, resigned to the fact that no one was listening, and abandoned the idea.

 _Nessa, where are you?_ she thought. But in her heart, she knew that her chances of finding her sister were slim to none.


End file.
